I love you
by ginaromano2012
Summary: Just a one shot I thought up. It's kind of cheesy, but who knows how Sherlock would truly behave if he was in a relationship?


"I love you." The words escaped my lips before I even realized I had thought them. My eyes widened as I pulled away from Sherlock, looking into his clear blue eyes. His eyes, in turn, were filled with confusion as he let his hands drop from my waist. Why was it taking him so long to respond? He blinked at me, as if he hasn't understood the words. "Sherlock?" I asked, insecurity creeping into my tone. "Jess..." Sherlock softly mumbled, a sad, apologetic look on his face.  
I looked at my hands, a hot blush creeping across my face. I gazed up at him, seeing the sad look on his face. He didnt love me back, did he? I gulped, mumbling something that sounded like a cat being strangled and turned, tripping towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. Just as I shut the door behind me, I saw Sherlock still standing where I left him.

I locked the door and dropped onto the toilet, bringing my knees to my chest, a sob escaping my throat. I loved this man more than I could handle. Why? Why would I trust my heart with someone like him? Why would God make me love him, if he wouldn't love me back? It seemed why was the only thing I could think at this moment, hot tears sliding down my cheeks. Logic escaping me at the moment. I lowered myself from my seat on the toilet lid to the corner by the tub.

I looked around at my bathroom, the yellow walls appeared too cheery. If this man didnt return my love, what was I to do? Loving someone wholeheartedly hurt a lot more than I expected it to. I had always thought that women were weak when they said they weren't sure if they could continue without said man, but now I understood. The pain... I closed my eyes, setting my forehead on my knees, his sad eyes haunting my vision. The pain. I just wanted him. His arms always made me feel better, but I couldn't have his arms. Not anymore, not if I was the only one with those feelings.

Tonight had started out so perfectly, he had held me so closely as lestrades wedding... The way he had looked at me... I was so sure that Sherlock wouldn't look at anyone else with those eyes, but if he didnt love me... If I wasn't the one for him... Another sob choked me. I had just gotten changed when he had pulled me in for yet another heart-stopping kiss. just as it had ended the words just slipped out. I got up and sat on the edge of the cold porcelain tub, trying to clear my muddled thoughts. My brain was so fuzzy, drowning any logical thoughts with hurt and the question. The question of why. What could I have done better?

I lost all control of my tears. They wouldn't quit coming, I tried stifling the heart breaking sobs, but it didnt work. I slid myself into the tub and curled into the fetal position. Of course he didnt love me. Had he just been using me for physical pleasure? Even a man who didnt love anyone would still feel pleasure from kisses, surely. But... The way he had held me... It haunted me. Had it all been an act? I felt like I was betraying him by having these thoughts, but what if it was all true? What if he really couldn't love?

There was no way we could save our friendship now. Not only had a told him I loved him, but I ran from the room when he didnt reply. I had reacted like a child, but I was too heartbroken to be embarrassed. I honestly loved the man. I loved him with everything I had. I wrapped my green-jumper clad arms around myself and tucked my legs up to my chest.

John had warned me to be careful. I should have listened. John knew Sherlock better than anyone and he was sherlocks best friend, he cared for Sherlock, if he could warn me not to get attached... I should have listened. He had experience in the matter, but I hadnt and now look at where i was. After around half a hour of sobs I started to doze in the tub. My tears were taking a physical toll on me, exhaustion sweeping over me like never before... Why was the last thing I thought before the sandman took control.

I awoke with a jump at the sound of someone knocking on the oak door that seperated the hall from the bathroom. I didn't want to open my eyes, the pain and confusion returning the second I left the land of dreams. How long had I been asleep, anyway? I blearily glanced at my watch. The electronic flashing informed me that it was 1:47 am, so who was in my flat? Maybe I had dreamt the knock. I closed my eyes again, wanting to drown my pain in unconsciousness again. I'd find a way to deal with it in the morning. Sleep started tugging me down when I heard the sharp knock on my door again.  
This time I started to get a little scared. So, I hadn't imagined it. I lay where I was, staring at the gold plated doorknob. It turned a little, as of someone was trying to open the door. When whoever found out it was locked, they knocked again. "Who is it?" My voice a little scratchy after the crying I had done over Sherlock. Sherlock. A tear slipped from my eyes again, but it didnt feel like it came from my eyes. It felt like it came from my heart. That sounded cheesy, but nothing truer had ever been said. How could the single most obnoxious, pompous man provoke such strong emotions?

I cleared my throat. "Who is it?" I asked again, stronger this time. "Jess... Please, let me in." I was surprised to hear Sherlocks creamy, baritone. I had runout of the room over three hours ago. Had he really stayed the whole time? I shakingly got out of the tub and opened the door a crack, which was quickly opened the rest of the way by large, pale hands. His arms quickly surrounded me, his face burying in my sort, auburn hair. I pulled away as if he had burned me and he let me go, a look of longing in his beautiful eyes. I turned away from him and climbed back into my tub. Ever since I was little, I loved the feeling of security it gave me and I needed that security now, more than ever.

"Sherlock, it's okay. You don't have to explain. Please, go home." I mumbled, tucking my face in my arms, not wanting him to see the pain leaking out, in the form of tears. Sherlock answered by closing the door and stepping into the tub. He layed down next to me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. I tried, but I couldn't stop from sobbing into his chest. He made me feel so safe and so right. It didnt matter that he was the reason I was crying, his arms made me feel secure again. So much more than the tub could ever.  
"Jess." Sherlock cooed, soothingly stroking my hair, "Don't cry, Jess." He mumbled, setting his chin on top of my head. I didn't answer, I just buried my face into his chest deeper. "Jess. Don't cry. Please, don't cry over me. I don't deserve your tears." He mumbled the last part. I sniffled, looking up at him with tear filled, hazel eyes, saying, "What are you talking about? Nobody deserves my tears more."

Sherlock looked at me, a slight frown gracing his beautiful features. He swiped his thumb across my cheeks, wiping away my tears. "No, Jess. I don't." Somehow he managed to say those words void of all emotion, as of it was a fact pulled from the encyclopedia Britanica. I was having a hard time understanding him, so I reached up and put my hand to his cheek, like I had done so many times before and asked, my voice shaky, "Why didnt you say anything?"

Sherlock grabbed my hand from his cheek and pulled it to his mouth, just pressing his lips against my knuckles. He shifted his weight and just then I realized how close we really were. His legs and my own were slightly tangled, while my chest was seperated from his by maybe a few inches. He sighed, before answering "Because, I don't want you to get hurt." The second he said those words, the pain lessened, but the confusion deepened.

"Get hurt?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He would never hurt me. Guilt flooded my system when I realized how much I had doubted him earlier, when my heart took over and left all logic to the wolves. Sherlock avoided my gaze, looking at our hands, which he promptly intertwined his long fingers with my shorter, smaller ones. "You don't want to love me. All I will do is disrupt your life." He answered, pain entering his voice-and face- for the first time. I had never seen such emotions on this mans face before, and I silently vowed to do everything in my power to keep them from gracing his features again.

"I don't care, Sherlock. My life may be crazy with you, but I don't think I could go back. Not now. It would seem too empty. That's the thing about you, Sherlock, you enter a persons life, but never truly exit." I said, wiggling closer to his purple clad chest. Sherlock looked thoughtful for a time before answering, "I think you are wrong to love me, but I never meant to cause you pain. I would never intentionally be the cause of your discomfort, Jessica.' He caught my eye and I could of sworn I saw a twinkle in them, as if the thought of his making me cry would physically damage him.

"Well, honestly, Sherlock, I don't give a damn if you think I'm wrong." I said, running my fingers through a lock of that black, curly hair that I loved so much. That earned me a small smile. A breathtaking one at that. "Are you sure you will not heed my warning?" He asked, "I made you cry." He reminded me, grimacing. I internally laughed at that. Made me cry? I had felt like my heart was being wrenched out of my chest. All because he was trying to protect me. "Yes, I'm sure."

He somehow managed to look simultaneously relieved and worried. "Jessica, I love you." He breathed out, our faces inches from each other. I looked into his eyes and knew it was true. I didn't know how I had ever doubted it. I slowly pressed my lips to his soft, pink ones. He pulled me closer, his hands on my waist, digging in a bit. I smiled against his mouth, weaving my fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss.

He made a sound and pulled away seconds later, earning a sigh from me. I opened my eyes to see his twinkling back at me. "Against all odds, Miss Abbot, you managed to make the unlovable and emotionless fall inlove with you. I suppose I never really had a chance. Since the day I met you, I had a feeling my life wasn't going to make sense anymore. All my dear logic was thrown from the window. The vows of never falling in love were divorced and all I had left was my bare heart, pne that had never been used. And for that, I must thank you." His mouth quirked up into a half smile, but his eyes showed no humor, only love, an emotion that no one had ever provoked out of him,I realized.  
Sure, he loved John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade... All of these people, but it was different when he looked at me. Almost as if he would do anything never to have to leave my side. Like, if I were to leave, je sun would vanish from existence and i would leave his world in total chaotic darkness. I smiled, tears of happiness twinkling in my eyes. A look of concern flitted across his face. "Tears? No, not tears. That wasn't supposed to make you sad!" He mumbled, wiping them away with his thumb.

I giggled quietly, leave it to Sherlock Holmes not to understand tears of happiness. "It's okay," I said, placing my hand over his, which was currently taking residency against my cheek, "these happen to be good tears. Tears that say, against all odds, I love you too." Sherlock looked confused, but he accepted what I said, a look of elation evident in his smile. "It makes no sense, Jess, but then again... The feelings I have for you don't either. Rarely anything in johns world makes sense. I always wondered why someone would choose to live in it and now I understand. Love." He said, as if deducing what I had for breakfast this morning. All fact.

I didn't respond, I just snuggled into him as he wrapped his long, warm arms around me. We stayed like that for the rest of the night, just holding each other. Later on, when recalling this moment, I couldn't help but laugh. He confessed his love for me in a tub after making me sob, completely heartbroken. But, that's Sherlock Holmes for you. Everything he did was out of the norm.


End file.
